


Pinpricks

by quartzguts



Series: bad things happen (mostly to noct) [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt Noctis Lucis Caelum, Poison, Self-Harm, Status Effects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25002382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartzguts/pseuds/quartzguts
Summary: “Noct? Are you feeling alright?” he asks, his mouth curling around the words in a way that looks unnatural.The fire in his veins spreads. A sweat breaks out over his forehead. Noctis grins.“Never better. Can we have fish for dinner?”
Series: bad things happen (mostly to noct) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550269
Comments: 1
Kudos: 112
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Pinpricks

**Author's Note:**

> for my bad things happen bingo card. the prompt is "poison"

His skin is itching.

Noctis scratches at it, trying to dig his nails in to get at the veins, to scratch away the itch in his blood. It curls up through his mud-covered arms, angry and insistent; Noctis groans quietly. He’s exhausted, covered in grime, and desperate to be away from the Vesperpool’s gentle, suffocating humidity. Ignis looks back at him, lips pursed, his glasses reflecting the campfire in brief, bright flashes.

“Noct? Are you feeling alright?” he asks, his mouth curling around the words in a way that looks unnatural.

The fire in his veins spreads. A sweat breaks out over his forehead. Noctis grins.

“Never better. Can we have fish for dinner?”

\---

He doesn’t remember eating. The fire crackles and hisses in front of him, red and orange wisps of light stretching up towards the sky. Noctis wonders if they’re trying to touch the stars, to reach those flames that exist far, far beyond their tiny little world. The others are in the tent, sleeping peacefully. Noctis keeps shuffling in and out, watching their chests rise and fall. Scratching at his arm. Staring at the flames.

He breaks skin.

His blood smooths over the dirt, mixing until it’s bleeding a murky brown. Noctis thinks he sees stripes of other colors in it, of blue, green, and purple; it’s a rainbow spilling out over his arm, pooling on the haven. He keeps scratching. These colors must be what’s causing the itch. If he gets rid of them, the fever will dissipate, and his lungs will take in air again, and he’ll be able to sleep.

The tent rustles. Prompto stumbles out, yawning. His bleary eyes focus on Noctis.

“Holy sh—”

The words are like fire crackers in his ears. Noctis has to escape them; he leaps off the edge of the haven. His head is pounding. Prompto shouts after him, but Noctis just runs and runs.

The itch spreads.

\---

He comes to slowly.

Someone is shouting his name. Noctis groans, then whimpers, curling up into himself. His vision is swimming. He can’t breathe. The water of the Vesperpool gurgles, then rises; a tidal wave crashes against him and fills his lungs, his mouth. He swallows the muddy water. All he can see are shadows. A sahagin swims past, its scaly body pulsing with blue light. Noctis reaches for it. He wants to grab onto something, to steady himself. The sahagin drifts away. The world turns on its head.

Noctis keels over, retching. He wants it to be over. He wants the itch to stop. He chokes out a sob. The jagged edges of his flesh catch in his nails, and he cries louder and louder. He wishes he had a potion. He wishes the world would stop shifting. He wishes, he wishes, he wishes—

_he wishes his dad were here._

An eagle swoops down on top of him. “Found him!” a gruff voice yells, and Noctis falls under the waves.

\---

Even before he wakes up, Noctis recognizes the arms around him as Gladio’s. He murmurs, curls into the oppressive warmth of his chest. Someone is at his side, smoothing gloved fingers over his arm. The itch is gone, drained out through his fingertips. Noctis gurgles something, a word maybe, or two, or nothing. Someone else pets his head.

“It’s okay, buddy. You’re fine. We’ve got you.”

Noctis spits up the saliva hanging thick and heavy in the back of his throat. Beneath his ear, Gladio’s heart beats.

\---

Needless to say, they buy an extra batch of antidotes the next time they go into town.


End file.
